I keep waiting
every single day
for your return
with a bag
full of memories
and good times
that we shared
Where are you?
I can't see
the slightest hint
of your presence
What about those
promises of 'forever'?
Why did you
start an end?
Now I wonder
if you will
ever come back
in good time
or will you
let me down?
Now I fear
you will return
zestful as ever
hopeful to run
but I won't
be able to
for I would
be too exhausted
of this wait
only to run
away from you.

My brain is a factory,
producing every toxic part of me.
******* until my hand gets lazy,
fantasizing about Lexi Belle
and being Martin Scorsese.

My blood is a vacuum,
alone in a crowded room;
my white blood cells like to
travel to my *****,
so I can someday infect
designer uterine walls.

Locked and loaded,
my heart exploded.
The tissue and issues
attracted crocodiles
that swam from the mall,
for miles and miles.

Store-bought baby, my body isn't ready,
to be stripped down to the bone,
and sold to teenage radios,
that'll broadcast my American moans.

Caucasian nightmare:
my skin is not fair.
Peel enough off with chemicals,
until I decide there's no more,
and hide the layers in bathroom stalls,
located in the bleach of Baltimore.